2014-05-16 - No Losers, Only Winners
Charlie hates towns like North Salem. They're flush with money, many residents are egotistical and opinions of the troubles of those less fortunate are countless. At least that's in Charlie's experience. Hub City has a few suburbs like North Salem; The people tend to believe they are immune to crime or problems. charlie always finds it humorous when a town like North Salem makes the news. Citizens of the sleepy upper crust declaring 'This is such a nice place' and 'This never happens here!', when in reality; No one is safe. Charlie is not here as Charlie or as intrepid reporter Vic Sage. He's donned the guise of The Question due to the less than legal methods he intends to use while in town. Why's he here? His broader investigation into an illegal substances ring has drawn him to a upper-middle class teenage intramural sports organization that prepares the local kids for College-level. This complex houses facilities for Baseball, Polo, Golf and Football. The Question finds himself near a side entrence to one of the locker room facilities, working a lock in an effort to gain entrence. Chenda Gray, who's new in town, is also in North Salem, but she's just delivering a message to a friend. She is well aware that nobody is truly safe, but being in this environment tends to make you relax a bit. Still, seeing someone messing around the local sport center doors does make her stop and take notice. She takes cover around a corner and frowns thoughtfully as she watches. Surely nobody with a key would be taking that long to get inside... If only the Faceless Man had a key... that's definately a thought that has crossed the man's at least a dozen times in the past couple of weeks. After minutes of work, the basic padlock is released. He couldn't break the code using the dial on the face of the lock so The Question gave up and chose the easy way; Violence. A quick, sharp and precise blow to the top of the body of the lock was enough to jar the locking mechanism enough for the pins the jump and release the U-Bolt. Q slides the lock off the door, opens it and slips into the inside of the complex. The outside of the complex is as busy as it usually is mid-day on a school day... meaning there's only a few cars parked outside for adminstrators who work here during the day. A couple of newer model foreign cars that kids now-a-days drive are also "parked" at the complex. So, what's this guy doing? Richenda can't tell, other than a little B&E. Well, she won't learn anything standing here! She slips out of hiding and moves quickly and quietly across the parking lot, then slips along the wall 'til she comes to the door. She takes a quick peek inside, then slips in through the unlocked door. With her hoodie, layered tees, flared jeans, and red hi-top tennies, she could easily have a legitimate reason for being here... she hopes! There's a couple of Jocks outside of the front entrence of the complex, smoking, it seems. The two of them observe Chenda sneaking across to the side of the building. These pillars of health gesture towards her as she passes by but remain where they are. Less interested in her than finishing off their cigarettes. Inside the complex, when Chenda peeks inside prior to entry, she'll notice she's in the mens/boys locker room. The large, gym-like overhead lights are dimmed meaning no one's expected to be in here. The Question is this large, expansive room though. He's hunched next to a wall near several rows of lockers and benches. He's peeking around the corner at a muscular middle-aged man speaking to a couple of younger men. They are speaking in hushed tones but due to the vacancy of the locker room their voices carry and bounce off the lockers and walls- "... demanding schedule. You kids think training's been tough up 'till now? College demands an enhanced attention span, constant work outs AND you've got to keep your grades up to a passing level or you lose your scholarship. The University will drop your asses if you're not winning and bringing in more dollars to the school." The two young men listen and look at the duffle the older man is carrying. Chenda blinks as she realizes where she is... fudge! There's no way she could legitimately be in this room! She'll just have to stay sneaky, then. She pauses to slip off her tennies and hide them under one of the benches, opting for the silence of sock-clad feet. Sneaky she can do! And she does get closer, though not right up on the man from earlier. She can hear just fine where she is. But why did the other guy sneak into a /locker room/? And with lockpicks? That's a little too much determination for just some perv looking for a thrill. The middle-aged voice sounds like he's on a sales pitch, not a pep talk. Something's just not right here. The man continues pitching to the two younger fellows, "So, you get me right? You want to succeed, keep your scholarships and after putting in a couple of years reach The Pros, right?" The man, muscular in build with thinning hair and an impressive mustache grins at the pair of them, "It worked for me, you know. I took these supplements all throughout my carreer and racked up impressive stats" One of the boys nods, "I'll do anything i need to do, Coach." The other boy nods along and verbalizes his concurrance. The Question doesn't realize he was followed inside the locker room. He moves along the wall, trying to remain obscured by lockers and benches. One locker door, however, is askew and the Faceless Man brushes past it. It gently shuts and, because of the relative silence, the metal of the locker door hitting the locker sounds louder than it should. The boys and coach jerk their heads around towards the source of the noise and spot the man in a trenchcoat that's traspassed into a locker room. This certainly doesn't bode well. Chenda, seeing the trenchcoated man begin to move, looks towards the door. Nobody's shadow is moving... maybe they're really caught up in the speech? And then comes a sound she knows well: A locker door colliding with the lock without engaging it. Oops for the B&E man! And /now/ those guys are moving! Her first instinct is to just stay where she is, but she discards that notion instantly. They'd only find her when they rounded the corner on the other man. It's either teamwork or every person for themself. Making her decision, she darts out to get a clear shot at the locker room crowd. "Run for it!" she calls, summoning up a handful of power-seeds and hurling them to the ground at the feet of the athletes, young and old, set for serious concussion! Hopefully she and the trenchcoat guy will be the only ones standing once they burst! The man and two younger men, after spotting The Question, move in a hectic manner. The older man throws the duffle back, over some lockers into a deeper section of the locker room. While doing this he shouts at the boys, "Tackle that guy!" His statement is preceded by cursing. The younger men hunch down and start charging towards the Faceless Man... but their effort is cut short by the sudden action by Chenda. Q is surprised by her presence as well as by her actions- Why would she be helping him? Not looking a gift horse in the mouth, Q moves. However when the three men are distracted by her action, Q doesn't rush to leave. Instead he's making his way over benches and lockers to get to where he believes the 'coach' threw the duffle. As the 'Coach' tries to recover, he screams out an order, "GET IN HERE! HELP!" clearly to someone or some people outside of the locker room area. Chenda breathes a quiet sigh of relief as her power-seeds do the job. "I'd stay down, guys. There's plenty more where those came from," she says warningly, moving to cover the Faceless Man as he... doesn't exit?! He's going further into the locker room! "Oh, fudge..." she murmurs, and hurries to help him, dodging around one floored kid and jumping over the other. "What are you doing? There'll be more of 'em coming any second!" Any second, indeed. About a dozen more younger men come into the locker area. Where'd they come from? Maybe they just arrived? Or maybe they all carpooled in the high-end cars "parked" outside. These guys are all muscular and appear pretty fit. This must be the football team. As Chenda passes by the downed boys who were in here with the Coach, one of them attempts to reach up and grab at her legs to drag her down. The Coach scrambles back up to his feet, recovering from Chenda's powers. His eyes grow wild as he watches The Question head towards where he tossed the bag. Through grit teeth, he commands, "These guys aren't leaving here without a beating, Kids! Good ol' fashion locker room brawl. College is rough, you guys need to learn this sooner or later!" The Question takes a turn and starts to head down another row of lockers. The Coach scrambles around the lockers giving chase to the Vigilante. The other members of the team spread out, one covering each of the exits and the others splitting themselves between Chenda and the Question. Chenda's quick on her feet, but not quite quick enough to dodge a grab from below while she's moving on a tile floor in her socks. Her foot slips as she tries to evade that grasping hand, and she barely manages to keep her balance as he grabs the leg of her jeans and tries to pull her down. He's only partially successful; he pulls down her jeans, but not her. She glances down at her black-and-white striped high cut briefs and yelps. "Hey! This is the /boys/ locker room! I'm a /girl/! I'm not supposed to be undressing here!" And she gives him a flare-set power-seed to get him to let go. But she's not out of the woods yet, and neither is the guy in the trenchcoat. Here comes the football team! "This is /so/ not my day. I hope whatever's in that bag is worth it!" She goes for the same tactic as before, only with more power-seeds and a wider spread. Maybe she can cut off some of the guys going after the faceless man! And buy some time to pull up her pants... The Duffle is in the Question's sights! The faceless man darts around a bench and skids to a stop in order to reach for the duffle that found itself precariously balanced on the edge of the bench when it landed from its toss. Q stopping, though, gives the 'Coach' a chance to catch up to him. The 'Coach' spreads his arms out and lunges towards the Vigilante. An expert tackle backed with the strength of a man who exercises at an intense rate slams The Question up against the row of lockers flanking him. Q exhales sharply, making a 'Oof' sound upon impact. The coach cries out, "Got you, you sonnuva... Kids, Get over here!" The young man that yanked down Chenda's pants gets a show, but this is not the time to even get titilated by the show from the pantsless girl. His future is on the line, or so he believes. Chenda gets him to let go and back off. The new people entering and flaring out into the locker room are given pause by the wide-spread use of Chenda's powers. It's not enough to stop the dozen or so kids from advancing. One guy, maybe a fellow who plays wide receiver, lunges to tackle Chenda. Chenda, startled by the lack of effect of her powers, barely has time to register the guy lunging at her, let along pull up the jeans pinning her knees and legs; she and the guy hit the ground painfully! "Oof! Ow... I can't believe a big strong guy like you'd tackle a puny little girl like me!" she snaps, beginning to get angry as she struggles to escape his grip. "And while she's undressed, no less! What do you do for an encore, take candy from babies?" She kicks her feet free of her jeans and curls up, digging her feet into the guy's midsection and thrusting hard, trying to heave him off of her with her acrobat's leg muscles! The guy who tackled Chenda ignores her verbal jabs. Once he's got her, he calls out, "Got 'er, Guys. Get your asses over here hold 'er down!" He sounds like he's about to say something else but any further words are driven out of him with the air that's forced from his lungs. Chenda's feet press hard against his midsection and the breath is pushed out of his lungs. The other members of the team close in on the Receiver and Chenda. No sooner has she stunned the Receiver does she have half the team surrounding her. The other half of the team threads themselves through the rows of lockers and get to the row Q and the Coach are in just in time to see Q slam the back of his head against the face of the Coach. His fedora flopping to the ground near to the duffle bag. The Coach had positioned himself in a manner so that he was locking The Question's arms behind him. After the headbutt, Q leans forward to drag the big former football player up and flips him over his shoulder. Splinters rain from the sky after they are kicked up into the air when the Coach slams down into and shatters the wooden bench that's positioned between the rows of lockers. This act makes the young men hesitate in their approach to the Vigilante. Pinned beneath the receiver, breathless or no, Chenda feels the impending-doom sensation that the weight of the world, or at least six big, strong, healthy football players! "Totally not my day," she murmurs, relaxing under the guy... but only so she can free her hands. Power-seeds come to her hands and she rolls them across the floor between the feet of her still-standing attackers as best she can, these set for heavy concussion to put them on the floor just like herself. "Knock-knock, big boys..." This time Chenda's power seeds work remarkably well. The boys that began to threateningly surround her get thrown head over heels as the seeds send out the wave of concussive force. The floor of the locker room, an easy to clean tile, is hard and unforgiving. The floor is not unlike these meat-heads' craniums. So when two solid objects collide, the weakest loses. In this case their skulls are just a smidge softer than the tile. A couple of the Footballers are knocked unconscious when they land. Others are dazed and confused. Q reaches down for his fedora after KOing the coach. He takes his opportunity to shoulder the duffle bag. The other members of the team block his exit out of the row of lockers. He looks at them and it's at about this time they notice his lack of a face. One of them asks in a very stereotypical 'Jock' voice, "'ey! What happ'n'd to yo' face?!" To which The Question answers, "Drugs did this to me. I thought they could make me stronger, run faster... you should have seen my Home Coming pictures..." Q then asks, "That said; What're the chances you are going to be good kids and let Uncle No-Face out of here without incident?" The remaining members of the team clench their fists and shake their heads in non-verbal hints to their answer and intentions. Finally, something goes right! Chenda manages to roll the stunned receiver off of her, slowly getting to her feet and flexing her limbs. Sore and stiff, but still working. "I'd better help Uncle No-Face. It sounds like he's got problems." Peering around the corner of that row of lockers, she catches sight of a very big fight about to start. She summons up a few more power-seeds, scattering them behind the jocks, set to serious concussion and noise. "Naughty-naughty, boys! Didn't they teach you about good sportsmanship and playing fair?" She winks. "They didn't teach /me/ that." The jocks blocking The Question's obvious exit are slowly approaching the cornered vigilante; like hunters approaching prey before the final pounce and kill. The Faceless Man purses his lips behind the pseudoderm that obscures his features. He exhales a sigh at their obvious and inevitable course of action. He says to them in a disappointed tone, "The Coach wouldn't approve of this..." Q gestures with a slight wave of his hand to the KOed coach near his feet. The Jocks hesitate when Chenda comes around the corner and mocks their sportsmanship. One of the young men near the back of the group, and closest to Chenda, looks back and spots her scattering those power seeds of hers. He cries out to warn his teammates, but his words are choked off when the power seeds go off. Q raises a hand and takes a bracing stance to avoid the force. The Footballers aren't as lucky- The force of the scattered seeds sends them forward off of their feet. Sparing no time, Q uses the unconscious form of the coach as a springboard and leaps over the fallen footballers. He swiftly moves to Richenda's side, "Neat magic tricks." He says as thanks. "Strike! Oops, wait... wrong sport! Maybe it's a multi-sack or something?" Chenda quips, stepping back to let Uncle No-Face get past if he wishes. She smiles a little at his compliment. "Thanks. What's in that bag, anyway? I'm guessing drugs of some kind?" It doesn't look like she did the jocks any permanent damage, but they don't exactly look unconscious, either. "Maybe we should get outta here... you haven't seen my pants, have you?" The Faceless Man glances back over his shoulder towards the group of Pre-College Footballers as they start to slowly push themselves up from their prone positions; The sounds of effort and groans of aching coincide with the act. The Question looks back to Chenda, "A young lady with her pants off and a man in a trenchcoat in the boy's locker room... it would be unbelievable if it were believable." He makes a lazy gesture to indicate the whole of the locker room, "Somewhere in here, I'm sure. And yes; Illegal Performance Enhancers. We've got to run bef-" And, of course, the door to the locker room opens up and a trio of other men, older like the coach, enter with haste. The Assistant Coaches shout in unison a combination of 'Stop!' 'Drop that' 'You're dead!' which sounds really weird as an amalgam blurted at the same time. "That... just doesn't make any sense," Chenda says, grimacing with the effort of trying to figure it out. "But I do see my jeans under that guy. Could you help me move him? We've got to run, and I really don't want to leave a locker room in my undies." And, with the usual perfect timing, the door bursts open! Now there are more older guys coming in, shouting a chorus of instructions and threats that come out in a cacophony of basso. "Actually, we can still run... might want to hide your eyes for a sec." She makes a motion as if hiding something in her hands from the men. "Oh... do you mean /this/?" she asks, mock-innocently, holding out her hands... which are full of a summoned power-seed! *FLASH-BANG!!!* Richenda has been lucky with her power seeds, but this time the flash-bang seed's brightness is ineffective. The burly Assistants are old, rugged Footballers themselves, so they were charging towards the two of them while leading with their heads. Their gaze was downcast and their experience in The Game allowed them to ignore the sound effects of Chenda's trick. They rush towards the Not-So-Dynamic Duo's location. The Faceless Man exhales a sigh again, repositions the strap of the duffle. He says to the young woman, "Alright; Get outta here. I don't even know why you're in here to begin with. Get out and run. I've got words to exchange with Larry, Moe and Curly." As he says this he positions himself in a defense stance between Chenda and the incoming Assistants. "But I still don't have... okay, if you insist," Chenda says, seeing the look in the assistant coaches' eyes. Her kind of trickery probably won't work too well on them. "But if you need help, yell!" And she dashes for the open door out of this place, long legs flashing as they eat up the distance. As she gets close, she darts over to the bench she'd hidden her shoes under and grabs them up, then hurries outside. The outdoor chill makes itself known immediately once she gets through the door. "Fudge..." she murmurs, flattening herself against the wall outside the locker room, only to flinch away as the cold seeps instantly through her underpants. "Brr! Okay, what do I do now..?" When Chenda makes her escape through the door the two of them snuck in through, The Question starts side-stepping to put himself between that door and the three larger men. He doesn't shimmey sideways for long as the three men are literally on top of him in seconds. One assistant leads the way, lowering his shoulders and plowing into him like a defensive back into a lineman. The Question lunges backwards under the tackle. A second assistant leaps ontop in an effort to help pin the vigilante down. Encumbered by the duffle and the weight of two men, The Question is in a sticky situation. The third assistant rushes for the same door Richenda used to make her escape. He's satisfied that the other two have Q well in hand, so the door Chenda stepped through moments ago slams open. The muscle-bound middleaged man swings his head left and right in an effort to locate the escaped young lady. He doesn't have to look far to find her! "I can't just go running through town like... yoikes!" Chenda yelps, ducking back from the ex-jock as she comes barreling through the door she just came through. "I don't guess you'd believe that I was just waiting for a bus... to a nudist colony... nope, didn't think so!" And she doesn't take chances this time. She drops her hi-tops and hurls a powerful concussion seed at the ground between his feet, where the assistant coach's balance is weakest. With luck, she can follow up once he hits the ground! Believe it or not, The Question has been involved in an involuntary scrum this week already. He survived that one... or so he tells himself. The Faceless Man's arms are pinned, his legs are free though. The man who initiated the tackle gets a pair of knees driven into the small of his back. The aging footballer on top of Q arches backwards as the pain of the strike cascades up to his brain. He's an older gentleman... of course he has back problems, right? That man is tilted off of Q while he also tries to pull at the man holding down his arms and shoulders. The second assistant growls, "You ain't going no where, Son." Chenda's blast is unsettling for the third assistant. The blast is fortutious because it does three things; One- It forces the man's equilibrium out of alignment, Two- The force, because it was tossed between his legs, strikes a very unfortunate blow into a place that should have been shielded by a Cup, Three- The opened door behind the assistance is forced violently backwards on its hinges. It swings further open, bounces off the wall and slams into the assistant's back. The third assistant couch staggers and falls foward. "Definitely a sack," Chenda says triumphantly, stepping onto the downed man's back and proceeding to the door. It sounded like somebody was yelling in there... Looks like Uncle No-Face has some problems of his own. One is down, at least. The other seems to still have him pinned. She shakes her head, summoning up a power-seed with a good concussion kick behind it. "Now now, boys, wrestling practice isn't for two more days, ya know!" she calls in singsong, letting the seed fly at the assistant's upper back. By now the young men of the team have had time to recover and recuperate. The original group that Chenda took down are slowly rolling and lurching into seated positions. Heads are cradled as headaches are realized when consciousness returns. The kids she forced to the ground to enable Q's escape are also up to their feet. Luckily the young men are still disoriented so they are taking no actions against the not-so-dynamic duo as of yet. The second assistant coach whom is still pinning Question gets a knee to his nose and a pair of legs scissoring around his neck. The Question's quite flexible it seems. Before the Question is able to flex the muscles of his core and throw the second assistant, Chenda's Seed hits the Assistant's upper back. The force is enough to throw the man over Q without the Vigilante needing to exert much force. Q sits up, readjusts the duffle and glances over a shoulder at the young woman. His head shakes, "I feel I should berate you for not taking the opportunity to run. But I won't because I wouldn't mean it." "Well, it's not like the opportunity's gone yet," Chenda reminds Uncle No-Face. "But we really should get going before we get some more company." She nods in the direction of one of the seated jocks, who just uncovered something rather important to her. "Could you grab my jeans, please? They're right on your way here. I'll make sure our friends here don't get any ideas about following us," she adds, summoning up another pair of power-seeds, one for each hand. Should the crowd start their way, she'll let fly... and by now, these kids ought to have learned a little respect for the young mutant and her 'magic tricks'. The Question glances around the room after he gets up to his feet. The duffle's still over his shoulder, he slides a thumb underneath the strap and holds it firmly in place. He nods in agreement with Chenda, "It's halftime; I'm going to sit out the second half." The Vigilante heads for the opened door, retrieves Chenda's pants and tosses them casually to her as he passes through the doorway to the outside world. Once outside, he turns to regard her, "You shouldn't follow me at this point." he pauses, "Well you shouldn't have followed me previously either, but this time especially. Head to wherever or whatever you call Home." "I won't, but I do need to know something: What's your name?" Chenda asks, smiling and nodding her thanks as she catches the lofted jeans. "Mine's Chenda... actually Richenda Gray. Just in case you need to find me or something." The Faceless Man is already several steps away, gearing up to an all out sprint when Chenda asks his name. He slows to a stop and turns at the waist to regard the young lady. He shakes his head, "How do you know I even have a name, Richenda Gray? That is a Question without a real answer." A pause is taken and a gesture to no specific point in the distance, "There's no time for this; I'm choosing to run while I can. I suggest you make a similar life choice." Q turns back around and is off. There's an old model VW Beetle off in the distance that he's running towards. "Call it a hunch? But... yeah. I have something like that in mind," Chenda agrees, scooping up her hi-tops and hurrying in another direction, for a decorative hedge some ways away that separates the athletic center from a bank. With a couple of turns to throw off any potential pursuit, she should be able to slip away without any trouble. Barring any reported sightings of some crazy girl running through town in her panties, anyway.